


Snapshots of a Wartime Fling

by nonamouse



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-31
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 04:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2054433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonamouse/pseuds/nonamouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seven flingy drabbles.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snapshots of a Wartime Fling

**Author's Note:**

> MASH is not mine.

**(ONE)**

They always clam up when he comes into the Swamp and always it makes him so snappish. He glares at them trying to act normal.

"Everyone knows about you two." He snips. "Degenerates!"

"Knows about what, Frank?" Hawkeye asks casually.

"Don't bother trying to hide it! And as soon as I get the proof, it'll be blue discharges for sure!"

Trapper arches his eyebrows. "You promise?" He says blandly.

Frank makes a sour face. "Oh... Nuts to you." They ignore him, pouring themselves martinis and muttering things Frank can't quite hear. He fumes, but leaves, suddenly feeling that he's intruding.

**(TWO)**

Tokyo summers are always humid and hot and Hawkeye awakes with his front glued to Trapper's back.

He idly trails his fingers over Trapper's naked thigh poking out from under the rough, sweat damp bed sheet and Trapper stirs.

"Hum? You want sex?" Trapper asks, groggily.

Hawkeye smiles. "Not right at the moment." He murmurs contentedly.

"Oh, I wore you out, huh?" Trapper's hair is plastered flat on one side and his smirk is lusty wicked; there's no way Hawkeye can resist.

"I'll show you worn out." He says and descends, catching Trapper's lip gently and artfully between his teeth.

**(THREE)**

Radar knows he shouldn't burst into the Swamp without checking. Sometimes, when the pain and fear of the wounded rolls over him, he forgets himself.

The sight and sensation of them hit him at the same time. They don't notice at first, Hawkeye's fingers wrapped in Trapper's curly hair; Trapper's head in Hawkeye's lap. And then a blanket yanked hastily over Hawkeye's legs and a tiny ripple of panic across the placid surface of Hawkeye's mind.

"What is it, Radar?" He asks calmly.

"Choppers, sir."

Hawkeye squeezes Trapper's shoulder and radiates a tinge of regret. "We'll be right there."

**(FOUR)**

Trapper never comes until after the rest of the camp is well past asleep, and Father Mulcahy is happy to stay up and hear his confession. Although Trapper isn't confessing sins, he just needs someone to tell.

He smiles and speaks with an uncharacteristic softness of things that he can never tell his wife, things he can never tell anyone else. The words spill from his mouth in a steady torrent until they're both nodding off and Trapper must return to the Swamp to sleep.

And as Mulcahy drifts off, he thinks that sometimes good can come from terrible things.

**(FIVE)**

Hawkeye thinks the best nights are the nights when Trapper is sleeping across the tent. Almost within arm's reach, but not quite, desire stretched between them like spider webs or rubber bands drawn to their max ready to break or snap them back together so hard they see stars.

And they usually do.

Days apart leave them in a frenzy, desperate for one another's touch, kissing until they're blind from lack of oxygen and forget to care if they're caught.

Hawkeye lives for those nights, drowning in anticipation. Knowing that, in the morning, Trapper will be waiting for him, too.

**(SIX)**

Cake is something rarely to be had around the 4077th, but if there's cake it's sure that Hawkeye will beg borrow and steal to get his hands on it. Filching a rum cake from Margaret, a vanilla cake from Frank and once, sneaking a rich, three layer chocolate cake, baked by Henry's wife, out of the CO's own tent.

Hawkeye manages to look inconspicuous carrying the neat bundle through camp and he and Trapper smuggle it out to the hills overlooking the minefield and eat greedily with their hands.

They spend the afternoon licking chocolate off of one another's fingers.

**(SEVEN)**

When in Tokyo, Trapper eats only with his fingers, daring to try the small, colorful sushi rolls only after Hawkeye has already tried them and nodded his approval.

The little seaweed wrapped bundles are packed with things Trapper doesn't recognize and couldn't name anyway. And Hawkeye pokes them between his lips with chopsticks handled so skillfully that Trapper wonders if he wasn't maybe born with a pair of them in his hands.

Trapper's nose burns and his eyes water from the wasabi Hawkeye has stroked on his tongue, he swallows and concedes that maybe octopus is pretty good after all.

~Fin


End file.
